David Lane’s play takes the form of a first person, present tense narration of the descent towards psychological collapse of a complex and troubled personality. In lesser hands the fact-into-conceit of this subject might have produced little more than a depressingly parochial chronology-cum-travelogue, but the direction Lane has taken gives us a credible exploration of an area of personal (and to a lesser extent social) identity as it affects a damaged personality. The bald facts of Svetlana Alliluyeva’s life are a matter of record; the defection, the marriages, the time in America and the subsequent British citizenship.